Draco Potter
by deja noir
Summary: What's this? Draco's blonde hair suddenly turns black. Plus, he has a scar! A lightning shaped scar! What happened? R&R..


"Draco Potter"

by: Tom's Princess

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. :) They're J.K.'s work of art.

…"_Be careful of what you wish for because it might just come true"…

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**Chapter 1**

As it has always been, the Malfoy Manor was devoid of joy, merriment, and euphoria, especially now that the once prestigious pureblood family had committed a series of unfortunate and drastic misdemeanors in the eyes of the one proclaimed "Lord Voldemort". Draco, who promised to succumb to whatever his master beseeched and ordered, inevitably failed due to his lacking adroitness in the dark arts field and his diminutive soft-hearted self. The fact of the matter is that his age does not comply with the Dark Lord's commands, but nevertheless, he had to abide by what was said. Voldemort's notion regarding Draco Malfoy's failure was fairly predictable because he intended it. After the imprisonment of Lucius Malfoy, Voldemort had contrived a plan to mark the faltering of the Malfoys. The catch to his scheme was if Draco did manage to accomplish it without a glitch, the Malfoy's would be free from persecution; however, if he happens to do the otherwise, he will have to submit to the Dark Lord's crude intentions or worse, kiss his life goodbye because he was no longer of use to him and his conspiracy. To Draco Malfoy's utter disappointment, he committed the latter one.

There he was lying flat on his silver and grey colored bed, musing, thinking, and cursing himself, damning his whole self, in fact. His sulking was useless, because it will hardly do him any good. He must face the awful truth and try to plead for the Dark Lord's forgiveness tomorrow, the day he had been dreading since his arrival. His once complacent self felt condescended and purely pathetic. Nothing seemed right to him now. "Fuck this bloody damn life!" he cursed. "I wish I was never born a Malfoy! How I fuckin' wish I didn't have to submit to his bloody overtures," he continued, giving out a huge sigh. He pondered and reminisced about the life he had lived and he had come to a conclusion that his life was meaningless. His one and true purpose was left unaccomplished and was even outdone by Professor Snape. He had been sensing the trickiness of his House Head, he knew that Severus Snape did not intend to protect him as he had been reiterating. Instead, he wanted acknowledgment on his part. He wanted to be Voldemort's greatest advocate by killing the only wizard Lord Voldemort feared-Dumbledore. His gaze fell upon an artifact he stole from a muggle-born third year. Somehow, he wondered what life would be like if he wasn't born a wizard. He contemplated on how life would be like if he was a muggle instead. _Would life be a little less of a burden if I wasn't a Malfoy? _He asked himself. His contemplation continued until he drifted of to sleep, not knowing someone had heard his complaints.

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Draco was awoken by a peculiar blinding light from his side. It was odd since he did not leave the lights on nor did he leave his draperies agape. He sensed the utterly unusual disposition of his once soft and comfortable bed change into a stiff and thin one. He sat down, eyes still closed as he rubbed his forehead. Strangely, he felt a certain distorted mark on it. _Bloody sleep marks! _he thought. Then, he finally opened his eyes.

To his bemused amusement, he awoke seeing a different room. It wasn't the silver and grey room he had. Instead, he sat there, gaping in disbelief at the dusty, simple, horrid and peasantly old room. _What the bloody hell! This isn't my room! _"Where in Merlin's name am I?" he mumbled. He immediately searched the closets and cabinets, to find traces of clues as to where and what happened to him. After purposely ravaging the room, he had concluded one thing: He was not anywhere near the Malfoy Manor. He looked out the window and saw several grotesque houses. Houses so tiny compared to the manor. "Where am I?" he asked himself. His question was soon answered when his eyes laid on a street sign saying "Privet Drive". _Privet Drive? I've heard that before...from father, as far as I can remember. Privet Drive? What am I doing in Privet Drive? _He thought, moving away from the window to walk towards the seemingly cast-off bed. _Was I freakin' kidnaped? Cause damn, if I was..._he ceased to find himself staring at a rather different Draco Malfoy in the mirror. "Ahhhhhh!" he screamed. He wasn't who he was. Instead of having light blond hair, it was dark black strands that covered the entire of his head. In addition to that, he had a SCAR! A scar contoured to a lightning. A scar similar to that of his arch enemy—Harry Potter. Just then, footsteps started to storm towards the room he was staying at. He froze. He had no idea who the footsteps belonged to. The footsteps were growing louder and louder and louder and louder until it came to a halt. The door creaked open, and he found himself, staring at a pudgy old man, fat and white haired. His fret was turned into laughter. He soon found himself laughing his heart out. He could not believe that he got scared just because of the old man standing by the door. "What are you laughing at boy!" the man demanded. Draco smirked. _So, this is my kidnapper. And he freakin' dyed my bloody hair! He thinks doing that would torture me? Well, he's definitely wrong! Lets's just see what he's made of._

"What do you want with me?" Draco asked conceitedly. "Money? Wealth?"

The old man raised an eyebrow.

"I see that you kidnaped me. I'm not stupid, you know."

The old man raised both his eyebrows this time.

"You won't outdo a Malfoy!"

"What the hell are you talking about boy!" the old man cried.

Then, another pudgy person entered the room, this time, it was younger version of the fat and old man that stood by the door.

"Oh, I see you've got a son," Draco said. "A fat, old and stupid son, modeled like you," he derided.

The boy gasped, then said, "Dadkins! He's being mean!" Then pointing at Draco he said, "Punish him!"

"Oh, I will! I will!" the old man said, agitated, approaching Draco.

Draco took his wand from his back pocket and to his even severe confusion, it wasn't his wand. His wand was supposed to be but now, it was not. It was a phoenix wand. _Fuck. _

"Don't you dare point that—that thing at us," the old man said, frightened.

_He's bloody scared! _Draco thought.

"What if I like to?" he said obstinately, waving it in front of him.

"Draco Potter!" the old man cried with blatant fear, _Draco Potter? _"You have no right to perform magic outside that.. that wizarding school of yours, remember?" he continued.

_Draco Potter? _

_Draco Potter?_

_Draco Potter?_

With those two words, he was ceased, dropping his wand on the floor. _Draco Potter? _

"Draco Potter?" he murmured

"You stupid boy!" the old man scowled "How dare you treat me and your cousin like that! Oh! Having you here was a curse! A curse! If only we weren't bound to take care of you, then you'll be living out in the streets! So be grateful!"

"Draco Potter?" he murmured again. Images flashed through Draco's mind. He was oblivious to the world at that fleeting moment. He was confused, very confused. Why was he called Draco Potter? Besides having the name sound so horrid, it also associated the surname Potter which he loathed so much. _What happened to me? What the bloody hell happened? Is this all a dream? If it is, I should wake up any moment now. Any...moment...now... Yes, it's all a dream...all a dream...isn't it?

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a/n: what do you guys think?should i continue? delete? tell me... :) reviews are very much appreciated.._


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